A bithday surprise
by Chrisy Agitado
Summary: Spock attends Leonard McCoy's birthday party. He has a present for the good doctor. Can you guess what it might be? Get your mind out of the gutter! Might contain slash SMc.


English is NOT my mother tongue, so don't fry me.

Not betaed.

Might contain slash (you know, like this: when two people really, really like each other ... - just that these two people are man.)

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The incident was unusual, but not unheard off: Commander Spock attended a social event - more specifically a party - voluntary.

What _was_ unusual was the fact that said event was a surprise- birthday- party for the CMO of the USS Enterprise and that it was a big one.

After everybody had jumped out and Dr. McCoy had thanked each person for their trouble, Spock was spotted by the doctor. McCoy, looking surprised the second time this evening, made his way over to where Spock stood and yelled over the music and the background chatter: "What are you doing here?"

Unwilling to submit to such undignified behaviour, Spock motioned for the doctor to follow and moved to a side of the room. There he answered in a normal voice: "I was repeatedly invited. If my presence bothers you, I will, of course, leave."

"No, no need. Actually I'm quite pleased you're here." McCoy answered quickly. Perhaps too quickly; because Cmd. Spock had already raised an eyebrow and was momentary asking: "And why would that be?"

Reluctant to admit the full truth, Dr. McCoy shrugged and decided on an empty: "There are worse people to spend time with."

He was saved from elaborating by Jim, who demanded loudly, that he should open his presents. So with a last grin to the vulcan he turned around and yelled: "Coming, captain!"

More grateful than he would admit, he made his way back over to where his friends were waiting.

That really would have been what he needed: admitting his attraction for a crew- member in front of that crew- member. He had half a mind to talk to Spock; to see if this could be going anywhere, but he had a little different setting in mind. Without a drunken chief- engineer and a constantly flirting captain in the background, for example. The doctor really enjoyed his party, but _if _he was to talk to Spock, he would at least try to make the conversation as private as possible. If only to save himself even more embarrassment.

McCoy couldn't know that at his words, aforementioned Cmd., couldn't help, but get his hope up again. True - the answer wasn't exactly a poem of love, but Spock knew the doctor long and well enough to see, that the answer wasn't an answer, but the avoidance of one.

The vulcan had decided that he would approach the good doctor within a standard month. He didn't really believe that McCoy could have feelings for him, yet there was a small, but hopeful voice that he was unable to silence. So he calmly as possible strolled to where the doctor was currently thanking Mr. Scott for an apparently old bottle of scotch. He watched as one present after the other was opened. The doctor seemed to be happy about receiving every single one.

Finally he came to Spock's gift and the Cmd. tensed, although he didn't let it show, of course. When the wrapping was unceremoniously ripped away and the box opened to reveal the content, most spectators looked puzzled. McCoy however had a look of true wonder and awe at his face, as he carefully lifted the old-fashioned stethoscope to examine it. After a few moments he came back to his senses and gently put it back in the box. He looked for a card, found it and read the three words on it: 'Happy Birthday, doctor.' There was no signature, but none was needed. He turned to Spock with eyes, which were still wide open in wonder: "Thank you."

The vulcan answered solemnly: "I hope this will put an end to your constant complaints about the medical scanners."

The doctor stared at him for a moment and than a grin spread across his face: "I should have known… Well, thanks anyway." He turned to open the remaining presents and thanked each giver thoroughly. But Spock noted that his eyes kept darting back to the box which held the stethoscope. Pleased, he was prepared to consider the evening a success.

Spock made polite conversation, as the party continued. When the attendants became more and more inebriated and their inhibitions accordingly less and less, he prepared to leave. His path however, was suddenly blocked by a very happy and apparently very drunk Jim Kirk. The captain held an open bottle of scotch, which Spock recognised as the one Mr. Scott had given to McCoy, and swayed in a dangerous angle to the right. Realising that this pattern of movement was undignified for the captain of Starfleet's flagship, he made a visible attempt to stabilise himself. He managed only partly, but enough to stab his first officer in the chest with his free hand: "You luuk like a maaan, who needs a drihnk, Spog! Here… haaave a sip!" he babbled.

Spock resisted the urge to sigh and answered in a low voice: "I was about to leave, captain. Perhaps you should do likewise."

Kirk's face broke, like he had received a blow in the stomach: "Whi should I leaw? You haave a drink wif me. That an ohrder!" Again Spock was stabbed in the chest.

"Captain, I will not ingest alcohol. Neither should you." Spock tried to take hold of the bottle, intended to see the captain to his cabin. Kirk however had other plans and struggled to remove the scotch out of the vulcan's reach. Misjudging compound and needed strength, the bottom of the bottle ended up on Spock's forehead, where it left a cut, which was already oozing green blood. Kirk stared stupidly and clutched the bottle to his chest. Then he turned around and yelled: "Bones! Spog 's bleeeeeding!" in a silly sing-sang voice.

Spock himself had problems staying upright, due to the fact that his vision was doubling and tripling. After only a few seconds McCoy emerged out of the crowd with Scotty at his heals. He took one look at Jim, who still looked like he didn't know what happened; and at the swaying Spock before he said: "Scotty, get Jim in a bed. I don't care how. Spock, you come with me."

This registered with Spock: "There is no need to escort me, doctor. I'm capable of finding my cabin on my own."

"You have a laceration and properly a concussion." said McCoy in a voice that did not conceal his anger. He shot Jim a last dark look, nodded his thanks to Scotty and turned back to the vulcan: "You're coming with me. Now."

Spock saw no other option and reluctantly agreed. However, when he tried to take a step forward, he swayed so dangerously that the doctor gripped his arm to steady him. Spock made no move to stop him. McCoy's face became even grimmer as he steered him off the party and to sickbay. Neither man spoke another word until Spock was seated on a biobed and had received a hypo against the nausea.

While McCoy worked on the vulcan's forehead, Spock suddenly stated: "You are inebriated."

The doctor stopped his work long enough to shoot the other man an amused look: "I'm not."

Unwilling to enter in a pointless repeating of 'Yes-No-Yes-No', Spock tried another approach: "Why do humans insist upon becoming intoxicated at social events?"

Bones finished his job, leaned against the next biobed and gave Spock an earnest look: "So you are able to do or say things you normally wouldn't do or say." At the inquiring look he received, he elaborated: "Well, let's put it like this: You can do whatever foolish thing you want to do. If you are lucky, nobody –including yourself -remembers what it was. If they do, you can blame it on the booze."

Spock had listened intently and now seemed to give the matter serious consideration.

McCoy used the time to study the familiar vulcan features, before asking a question of his own:" Why did you really gave me the stethoscope?" It had nagged him all evening. Spock could throw logic at him as long as he wanted – McCoy would not buy it. In the last years he had barely acknowledged birthdays and such an old fashioned instrument must have taken ages to acquire. The doctor was correspondingly curious as to its meaning.

"I thought it fitting." was Spock's quit reply.

The unexpected answer forced a laugh from McCoy's throat. "Old?" he asked in amused voice.

Spock locked him straight in the eyes and seemed to come to a decision. He held the doctor's gaze and responded in a small, but steady voice: "Special."

McCoy's eyes widened as he looked at Spock in wonder. The vulcan did not avert his eyes, but seemed determined to see this conversation through. Leonard had a right to know how he felt about him. A right to know what he meant to Spock.

The doctor's mind, however, was racing. Could that mean, what he hoped it did? Spock had never showed any sign he might be interested in him that way. Yet, he himself had tried his best to hide his true desires. He, as well, made his choice and asked in an unsteady voice: "Would you mind, if I kissed you?" There - he had said it. He had made his intentions perfectly clear. Now he was due a cold look and the sight of Spock's back. Maybe he _could_ blame it on the booze.

But neither did the vulcan glare at him, nor did he leave. Instead a small, but sad smile appeared on his face as he quietly answered: "No, not at all. But you would tomorrow." He finally averted his eyes. He had been right: Leonard's face clearly showed that he was confused by Spock's acknowledgement. His alcohol impaired brain merely tried to make the best of the situation. He could only hope, that the doctor wouldn't remember in the morning. He got up from the biobed to leave sickbay.

But he had misjudged: a suddenly broadly grinning McCoy gripped his arm and dragged him to his office. Spock was pressed into Leonard's chair and the doctor turned on his computer. At the vulcan's inquiring look, the grin on the other man's face just became broader. McCoy requested a file and was asked to give several passwords. Then a chemical formula appeared, that looked like ethanol. Spock just returned the expectant look the doctor gave him. Leonard must be more intoxicated than he had realised.

"Gods, Spock! _Look_ at it!" McCoy requested, mischief sparkling in his eyes. The first officer dutifully averted his eyes back to the screen and studied the formula. Then he suddenly saw it: the positions of several hydroxy groups were changed and a pentaerythritol ester inserted. This altered the positions of some condiment rings from cis to all-trans! The liquid would smell and taste like whiskey, but could no longer affect the human brain. The modified ethanol molecules would not be able to cross the blood-brain barrier.

When McCoy saw one of Spock's eyebrows go up in sudden comprehension he exclaimed happily: "_That's_ what I've been drinking for the last decade. For havens sake, I'm a doctor, not a sailor!"

Now it was Spock's brain's turn to race. If Leonard was sober and still wanted to kiss him… Ever so slowly Spock shifted his gaze from the monitor up to the now gently smiling face. Never taken their eyes of each other, both men slowly drew nearer. Both hearts beating violently, both throats suddenly dry, hands sweating. When their lips gently touched, both sets of eyelids fluttered shut.

When they drew back, both were smiling, a look of utter content in their eyes. An amused shimmer entered Spock's: "Happy birthday, doctor."

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So what do you think? I know the chemistrie part is bullhit, but there you go.

More (slash)?


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